The Last One Left
by DivergentTimelordFromDistrict4
Summary: Contains original characters.
1. Chapter 1

"_AND ANOTHER ONE BITES THE DUST!_" I sang out as loud as I could. After all no one was going to hear me. I was alone. Always alone. This is where I was when they attacked. I left here once it was safe and ventured out, of course. And apparently every bloody human on the face of the earth was being bold enough to put their lives in danger just to live also. Stupid humans. Always trying to survive. Always trying to spread their species among the stars. That's how they were described to me as a young girl. A young girl growing up in a world of war. War was not the choice of my people. It was the choice of our sworn enemy. We only lived it every day because of one man. That terrible man. A man with an old face. A man with many faces. A man who is a god. A man who isn't human trying to live among them. A man who's seen far more than the rest of us. And it's the things he's seen that make him loved, feared, angry, happy, sad, and above all, hated. These things make him, the Doctor.

"You can't be too loud you know. What if they hear you? I can't believe this. Of course _you_ would be singing at a time like this." Oh, Michael. He was good company for me. Spoke with words that would make you paint the ground if he wanted you to. And he was intelligent. That's always good if you travel with someone who is superior in brain power. "Why wouldn't you sing at a time like this? In all this hate, we could use a little love song." "That's not a love song," he said annoyed. "It is for your girlfriend," I said with a devious smile. "Oh, god. Don't start that again," he said rubbing his temples. "What? You're gonna fake your own death to get rid of a little puppy and we can't talk about it? Well that seems highly unfair," I provoked. I always did that to him. Who knows how much time we have together? It would be better if he hears someone's words of nuisance instead of nothing before he dies.

"I told you. We couldn't keep her around. Getting rid of her got us to the north crossing. It would've been four days longer with her dragging behind us. We would've been exterminated by then," he said wanting to end the conversation. I'm not one to have a conversation ended on me. "So you knock me out, write a suicide note, and wander off with me on your back and her in the tent? If I was human, I'd be disgusted," I say sarcastically. "Exactly. You're not human. So why do you care?" he says, and I've nothing to say. Which doesn't happen a lot. As he starts to sit next to the fire, we hear them. In the distance we hear their hateful, deathly voices. "_…exterminate…Exterminate…EXTERMINATE…Exterminate…exterminate…extermi…_" Just a false alarm. Some mad one going on around and about. Even though the ones on the ground and the ones that stray away are usually the unarmed mad ones, we still draw our weapons closer when we hear that word.

We go back to our fire that's dying out. "We can't get anymore wood. It's all still wet from the rain a few hours back. I'll go at daybreak and fetch some," he says still holding his gun. "If we make it to daybreak…" I mumble. "Look, we have not traveled this long and this far for you to have an attitude like that. You, of all people, should be glad that you're outsmarting them. You and your race fought them over and over and over again. And now we are closer than ever to over throwing them. An army could defeat them! And you could be that army's leader! Accalia, conqueror of the Daleks! Supreme mind of their defeat!" he screams as he jumps in the air raising his hands in praise. I'm surprised they didn't hear him and come back and try to invade the parking garage. Then, his arms lower and he sits back down. He says quietly and flatly, "But you won't do it. And that is one of the things that confuse me the most. Not who you are, or even what _they_ are. But the fact that you won't try and bring their reign of terror to an end."

He picks up his gun and starts walking to the garage opening. "Where are you going?" I say. "I'm going to kill us a feast. We have to make every meal count, right?" he says with a sarcastic smile. And he's gone. And I'm still here. Alone. I hate it when it's quiet. When there's ruckus and commotion and things blaring and going wrong, those are my favorite moments. Noise. Without noise, we are nervous, uneasy, and vulnerable. But, I think my best when I'm in silence. Why did Michael have to say those things? Why can't I just tell him the truth about me? Why can't I tell him that I'm not the only one of my kind that made it out of Gallifrey? Why can't I tell him that _this_, overthrowing the Daleks and saving the world, isn't my glory to take? It's always been one man's mission. It's always been the Doctor's mission.


	2. Chapter 2

Michael returns with four birds, well pigeons really, in his hand smiling that proud smile he never wears. "Pigeons? Really? This our great feast for the night?" I ask sounding disappointed. "Well the only other edible scraps out there are torn apart Daleks. If you'd like one of those, you'll have to help yourself. I'm not touching those wretched creatures," he says with a disgusted expression. "So shall I cook our feast or would you rather roast them?" I say. He shakes his head. He's tried cooking before. Nearly burnt every piece of meat we had once. I scramble up some twigs discarded for the fire and a knife. I proceed to skin the fowl and sharpen the strongest looking stick. While I'm piercing them, Michael tries to keep the fire going. He places our last branch on the fire and blows softly, barely keeping the flame lit. Once I have all four birds on the twig, I hold it over the fire.

It takes more than an hour with our tiny flame. But once they're done, they aren't as bad as I thought they would be. They're sweet but tangy. After our "feast" is done with, we pitch the tent. When I'm inside, Michael blows out the fire and gathers our weapons and places them inside the tent. I'm wrapped inside my sleeping bag as he lies down with the covers. It's quiet and then, "How do you think she's doing?" he asks. "Marney?" I ask, shocked at the question. "Yeah. I mean, do you think she's going to make to Hannister? Do you think she'll be able to go through with… with the pregnancy?" he asks like he's genuinely concerned. "I think she'll find someone else she can mooch off and get to Hannister. She'll have the baby and forget about you. She'll tell the kid that its dad died fighting Daleks and the kid will cry because it's in a world of war," I say harshly. I know it won't upset him too much, but maybe I shouldn't have worded it that way…

"So you think we'll still be at war for that long?" he continues, wanting my honest opinion. After all, I've witnessed they're fights up close and personal. I know then better than anyone. "Yes," I manage to breathe out in a sigh. He seems slightly lowered now due to my answer. "They don't give up until they're dead. That probably won't happen in our lifetime. But it might. We could stop them, just as you said. An army could form, strong enough and smart enough to take them down. But for an army like that to exist, we'll be needing someone smarter and stronger than me," I say. He looks confused, possibly because I mentioned the possibility of retaliation against the Daleks.

"Are you saying we could do it? Are you saying you'd actually help find such an army? If you are, then I'm in. I am so in. But who knows more about the Daleks than you? You said you were the only person to make it out of, what was it? Arniflay? No, Gallifrey. You said you were the only survivor. You mean to tell me someone else is out there? There's another Time Lord somewhere in the universe?" he says growing more suspicious with each question. I can only manage to look at him, and see him grow angry and confused. He'll hate me for lying to him, but now there's no going back. I have to tell him about the Doctor. I nod and say, "You might want to get comfortable. It's a rather long story."


End file.
